


He said...

by SecondDerivative



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bitter Masturbation, Dimitri is real sad in this one, Ex-Boyfriends, FE3H Wank Week, Fantasizing, Like this is a dimitri/felix fic at the core, M/M, Please mind these tags!, Sad one-sided sylvix in part 2, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondDerivative/pseuds/SecondDerivative
Summary: He and Felix broke up a week ago after the incident at the Holy Tomb, and yet, Dimitri can’t stop thinking about him.---For FE3H WankWeek 2020
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: Wank Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (If it's any consolation, Dimitri and Felix get back together in the future and have their happily ever after, but not after many lessons of communication.)

He said that he saw Dimitri for what he was. 

The sentiment echoes in hollowness of Dimitri’s skull as he tosses and turns, engaged in a futile struggle to sleep once again. His head aches, and his body is hot despite the chill of the Lone Moon. 

Dimitri is agitated, pent-up. He presses his sweat-soaked forehead into the pillowcase, but its cool dampness offers little relief. He groans. 

These days he has barely managed to keep his ghosts at bay, and only because as of last week, he has had something else to occupy his mind:

Why had Felix broken up with him?

Obviously, that’s a trick question. From the get-go, perhaps even before they had reunited at Garreg Mach, Dimitri had known that Felix was too good for him. Surely, no one would look twice at Dimitri: awkward in his teenage lankiness, barely held together by a thin glue of well-wishing and decorum, and constantly, desperately at a loss of how to move forward into the next day.

Felix had said so himself, didn’t he? That he could see the true Dimitri beneath? It’s not as if Dimitri had been purposefully _hiding_ anything from him.

Dimitri had been breaking, broken, for a long time – none of this was sudden, and surely, _surely_ Felix of all people had known that, if the moniker of “Boar” was anything to go by.

He had asked him if he was sure. His hands had trembled around his narrow shoulders when Felix had pressed him up against the ivy-covered brick. He had asked him if he was okay with being tethered to a man as hollow and guilty as himself.

He had mouthed Felix’s reply to himself that night, with his new lover sound asleep beside him, and the night after that, and many nights after:

“I know you. I see you for what you are, including where everyone else is willingly blind.”

He had tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, hand brushing his cheek like the kiss of a feather. Dimitri’s heart had been but the wingbeat of a butterfly. “But…” _How can that be true? Nobody who sees me could want me._

“Dimitri.”

The sound of his name broke his quickly derailing train of thought. He had looked into Felix’s eyes, blue on amber, the connection grounding him to the earth.

Felix had leaned in until they were chest to chest. “You can trust me. I know you – better than anyone else does.” Then he had smiled.

_Liar._

Dimitri shuts his eyes, cutting off his thoughts. He claws a hand across his face. Of course it was too good to be true; there is no one who can really understand Dimitri – he is a beast whose humanity is twisted beyond recognition. Only a monster could understand him. 

Now, this beast knows better than to trust anyone with its heart again, but not before letting his dearest dig deep and twist the knife first.

He had really believed that Felix understood. Yet at the Holy Tomb, after Dimitri had returned to his senses, Felix’s face was painted with as much fear and shock as everyone else’s. 

Then, that very night, he had dropped him like ceramic across the stones. Just like everyone else.

He had lied, and Dimitri had let him.

Dimitri is angry. He’s bitter, and it is justified, because Felix had left, taking his goodwill, kindness, and pieces of Dimitri with him. And yet, Dimitri cannot cross this deep chasm of grief in his heart. 

Beyond all reason, Dimitri wants him: his feverish body still craves the feeling of Felix’s heat curled up against it; his eyes expect to see a head of dark hair beneath them and sting with disappointment when they don’t; his ears strain to hear the sleepy rumble of his ex-lover against their drums.

Even after everything, even though Dimitri is hurting and going crazy, he misses Felix with his entire soul. 

Dimitri sighs and he places his hand on his forehead. He can hardly believe that it was just days ago that they had tumbled into this very bed to have sex on Felix’s eighteenth birthday, finding escape in the familiarity of each other’s bodies. He remembers how, in post-coital bliss, Felix had lain on top of him, expression soft like no one else had ever seen. It was peace like Dimitri had never known, but like everything else, Felix had taken it with him.

Because Dimitri is wretched, his cock twitches at the memory of Felix’s upturned lips. 

Dimitri grits his teeth. It is thanks to Felix that his hand is no longer enough – nothing can compare to feeling of Felix around him, hot and tight, or his mouth, open and eager. Even Felix’s fingers feel better than his own – anything less than _him_ is doomed to leave Dimitri unfulfilled.

Still, he reaches down. An ending in disappointment is only fitting for a creature like himself, anyway. Felix, too, is to blame for unlocking his voracious sexual appetite.

He pulls his cock from his breeches. He tosses his head back, murmuring curses to himself as he strokes himself from base to tip. He closes his eyes, focusing inward on the recollection:

For all he talks about masks, Felix has one of his own. At the beginning of any session, Felix would start out difficult, demanding, bratty, even when he got hard at the first press of lips. Dimitri didn’t mind – in fact, it was part of his appeal. With every heated kiss, new angle of their mouths sliding and slotting into place, Felix would crumble, slowly at first, then faster, right in Dimitri’s arms.

Dimitri presses the back of his free hand against his lips, applying slow pressure as the other hand moves up his length. His tongue wets a knuckle but really, nothing can compare to Felix moaning – strangled but sinfully needy – into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his chest.

Kisses alone were enough to get them both worked up, even if Felix pretended otherwise. Soon enough, he’d be grinding against him, and Dimitri would be shuddering from the heated friction. He’d then pull Felix closer, until he could feel the jut of Felix’s hip bone on his body. Then his hands would travel downwards to _squeeze_ his tight, shapely little behind, causing Felix to let out the softest whine. He could encompass the entire cleft of a cheek in one hand. 

Dimitri’s dick twitches again, and he gasps out as he continues to stroke himself to hardness.

They would then move to the bed, pooling their shirts on the floor along the way. Felix would continue kissing him on the mattress, draping himself over Dimitri’s leg and rutting against his thigh. His head would be silhouetted by the moonlight, face obscured by loose strands of hair, but his eyes would shine brightly all the same, dark with lust directed at Dimitri and Dimitri alone.

Dimitri whimpers against his hand. Of course, Felix wouldn’t stop there.

He’d run his long, slender fingers up Dimitri’s abdomen and up to his pectorals – 

Dimitri does so, his fingers skimming across hot skin – 

And he would knead, lavishing Dimitri’s chest with attention; he always seemed especially fond of it. Dimitri lays a palm flat on himself and gropes, taking a sharp inhale when the motion brings pleasure. His hips lift off the sheets while he concentrates on rubbing hard, deep circles.

Then, Felix would want to bite and suck. He would smirk, stopping Dimitri’s heart in his chest, before leaning down, body brushing up against Dimitri’s hardening cock oh-so-teasingly (Dimitri grinds his palm down on his length), making Dimitri hiss, and find a nipple for his kiss-swollen, pink lips to wrap around, ministrations alternating between soft and hard, between teeth and tongue. Felix would continue his abuse until both nipples were unbearably sensitive to touch. 

Dimitri’s hand drifts to one, now stiff and peaking, and squeezes meanly before rolling it between the pads of his fingers. He moans, hips jerking into nothing, dick now fully hard and dribbling the first drops of pre-come. He clamors to wrap a hand around the base, moaning again at the increased pressure.

“Ah – Felix…!”

He bites his lip, but a whimper escapes anyway. Such foolishness – but he can’t help it. He starts to actively pump his fist, leaning harder into the fantasy.

He imagines Felix spread out before him, thighs and ass messy with excess lubricant. His arms would be stretched over his head, his chest rising and falling, the line of his abs drawing Dimitri’s sight downwards to Felix’s flushed and red cock, pressed up hard against his stomach. Dimitri would slide a finger down every inch, tease the balls near his base, causing Felix to _keen_ , before circling the tip around his hole, already oiled, gaping, and needy.

Dimitri would then turn his gaze to Felix’s face, red splotched high on his cheekbones, mouth just agape, but his eyebrows still drawn together in mock defiance.

 _“Are you going to fuck me or not?”_ he’d say, as though his length didn’t respond to the very thought of it when the words left his mouth.

Dimitri would then hum, teasing his cock again (and Felix would whine) and thumb his nipples, grope his ass, pinch the soft bit of his inner thighs. Because Felix is delectably sensitive in every place, he would moan and writhe at each touch.

 _“So eager for me,”_ Dimitri would croon, before finally inserting two fingers into Felix’s hole.

Feverish, Dimitri spits into his palm and continues to pump, picking up the pace and setting a familiar rhythm. He gasps loudly—he’s managed to work himself up to the point of burning need. He grips harder, but it’s not nearly enough. Yet the throb of his cock leaves him with no other choice but to careen desperately onward, to chase pleasure in the meager confines of his hand.

Felix’s surface resistance all but dissolves the second Dimitri spreads his ass cheeks and finally, finally uses his cock to breach his tight little hole. Dimitri wraps his fingers into a tight ring around his tip, groaning and bucking sharply when he twists. He’d slide into him, slowly if he could control himself, let them both be enraptured by the heat, the intimacy, the sweetness of their unity.

 _“Dimitri,”_ he’d sigh once Dimitri was fully sheathed inside of him. Dimitri would wait, keeping Felix still with his hands at his waist, even as he squirmed in Dimitri’s lap. _“Dimitri,”_ he’d whine again, softer, his wetness dribbling between them. 

He’d put the flat of his palms on Dimitri’s chest as he drew himself closer. _“Dimitri, please,”_ he’d whisper, _“Please.”_ He’d try to move his hips again to no avail, but Goddess, if that didn’t make Dimitri impossibly, achingly _hard._

Finally, Dimitri would snap his hips upwards, and Felix would sob when they connected, clinging to his front. He’d mutter and curse and _plead_ for Dimitri to keep going, harder, faster, deeper – to fuck him like he means it and to claim every inch. 

Dimitri would never settle for less.

Dimitri jerks into his hand vigorously, need rapidly mounting as he touches himself just right. His panting is uncontrollable as he feels the crest of his climax just beyond reach. He thinks of the arch of Felix’s back, of the moisture that never failed to gather in the corners of his eyes as he was filled by Dimitri’s cock over and over again. 

He imagines the pull of Felix’s breath by his neck, puffing hot in his ear as he begs again to be fucked, even though Dimitri is already deep inside of him. 

_“Fill me, Dima, please.”_

Dimitri grunts, pushing into his hand harder, simulating the grind of his hips against Felix’s ass. He bends his knees, lifting his torso. _Of course, Felix._ He would make him feel so good. He would give him anything, everything he wanted, just to have him like that: so open, so sweet, so cute. 

_His._

_“Dimitri,”_ he’d pant, a tear streaking his cheek, _“I need you.”_

“Felix—,” he gasps.

Dimitri spends into his hand, hips stuttering as he grapples through the waves of orgasm, entire body taut and writhing with sensation. 

“Felix,” he says again – begs – as sick pleasure wracks his body, from his dick to the tips of his toes. Then he lies there, panting, hand still around his softening cock. The residue leaks from the cracks between fingers onto the sheets. 

He stares at the ceiling. As the last of his climax dissipates into the night air, reality slams into him – it feels like frigid air filling a vacuum. What a fool he is, calling for someone who isn’t there. Amazingly, he feels worse than before because Felix is not there to share the moment. He is not there to snuggle against him, to card his fingers through Dimitri’s hair and smile against his neck after they’ve both ridden out their peaks. 

Dimitri can barely summon the energy to roll over, let alone clean up the mess. As loneliness grips his core, he is pulled under by sleep—hating himself for wanting, yet continuing to yearn for the comfort of a certain individual at his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain ruminates the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is a follow-up to the previous chapter. While this fic is also tagged sylvain/felix now, this is NOT a happy sylvix relationship; there are very strong dimilix undertones. Please proceed with that in mind.

“No, higher,” Felix shifts his position and Sylvain dips with him on the mattress, “Nn-ah, there.”

“Okay, Felix,” Sylvain says, adjusting himself to the new angle. His fingers are entwined with Felix’s and he can see the entire curve of Felix’s body until the place where it arches onto Sylvain’s cock. He’s been admiring the view, but at that moment, all he can think of is: _Wow, they must have done this a lot._

Automatically, Sylvain slams his hips forward again, causing Felix to grunt. They could have only been together for about half a year, and even if they had started sooner, it’s not as if they weren’t busy. And yet…

Sylvain gives another sharp snap of his hips and puts his weight forward, pushing his abdomen against Felix’s ass. Finally, he hears a sharp intake of breath followed by a low moan. “You like that, huh?” Sylvain murmurs, “Do you like it deep, Felix? I’ll give you deep.” He does it again, and this time Felix keens softly, just a tiny bit louder than before. Sylvain is going to have to keep trying if he wants to please him. It’s not as if he was around all the time – he had his own trysts to attend to – but from the times he spent sleeping in his own bed, he knows that Felix is loud. 

(Dimitri is no better. He’s heard all the pet names that he called Felix through their shared wall. He doesn’t know how he did it without getting his head cut off.)

Maybe it was his fault for taking advantage of Felix’s lapse in judgement, but he had felt that this was his only chance. For a long time, now, he’s wanted Felix and hey, maybe he could make it good for him – let him forget his misery for a while, but.

Felix squirms and tenses against the sheets now, eyes shut tight, gasping his pleasure, hand around his cock. Sylvain chuckles, moving his hand with the intent of replacing Felix’s, but has to settle with moving them together. Sylvain cannot stop the pang of jealousy that stabs him through the chest – behind those shut lids, does he see Dimitri? He probably sees Dimitri – even if it’s Sylvain buried inside of him, Felix’s heart was never his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I will write fluff next," I say, continuing to churn out angst. Please let me write fluff...


End file.
